


Dinner For Three

by Lokisgame



Series: To have and to hold [16]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: "Come on, I'm hungry, and the ice cream is melting"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mldrgrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/gifts).



> For @mldrgirl because I did such a poor job the last time. I hope this works better. 
> 
> Let's say the song would be "girl, you'll be a woman soon" from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack.

Mulder was restless. He bounced of the walls of his apartment all morning, and that was after his customary morning run and a shower. Suddenly realizing he lived in a pigsty for weeks, he decided to cleaned his apartment. The mess was starting to gain ground over the usual disorder of a half in half out life, but it wasn't a disaster yet, so it took about two hours off his day. Once finished he sat down with a cup of coffee in one hand, TV remote in the other, and surfed between games on three different chanels. Something however was still wrong. His knee kept bouncing, he couldn't sit in one place. He had to do something, get out. He packed his gym bag and headed for the local Y, he needed to move. Why watch the game when you can play? 

It was a good call, his team won and the giddyness he felt whole morning became managable. He treated himself to a light lunch and headed home. 

Mulder was an impatient man, always preferring to face whatever happened head-on. The reason for his restlessness however, was completely out of his hands. He wasn't sure if he had the right to feel restless at all, if he'd be completely honest with himself. 

The thing was, as of yesterday Scully could be pregnant. She took the day off to see the doctor who implanted the embyo, and now she had to wait. They had to wait.   
He hated waiting as much as he loved the thought, and dear God how he loved the thought. It put a huge goofy grin on his face. He could be on his way to becoming the father of the most perfect baby in the history of the universe and he refused any doubt to creep into his heart or head, until he knew for sure that it didn't take. He will try to control himself around her, but right now he felt like dancing in the rain. What it meant for him and her, was still to be decided, a matter that should to be dealt with caution and responsibility and care, but damn he was happy she picked him in the end.

He tried to remember when was the last time he felt this happy. Probably never, but close second must have been when he held her in his arms, dancing to Cher.  
Great thing about dancing is that it's one of few innocent forms of physical contact, not connected to trauma or psychological distress. They shared hugs, yes, but dancing was something else. The closeness, the touch, the intimacy it suggested; but also a formal setting that made it easier to get out if things didn't go as expected. For generations it was the best and most innocent way for a boy to get close to a girl he liked and Mulder was old-fashioned that way. He prefered dancing over speed dating or meeting people over the internet. Not that he dated much these days anyway.

When he was a kid he hated dance lessons, but once in college, he realized it was something that set him apart from other guys and got him laid. Girls thought guys who could dance had game. That is until his spooky reputation caught up to him. He used to get very moody and it eventually drove women away. But that was history, he grew up since then. And anyway, he never had to fear his spooky-ness would drive Scully away. 

He and Scully had fit together remarkably well from the beginning. The music didn't matter really, he could hum Elvis for her if it would make her agree to dance with him again. Her small frame, her clunky heels weren't perfect, if she'd be barefoot he'd die of happiness.  
What wouldn't he give to have her dance with him barefoot and... he could almost see it. 

She'd wear tight leggings, soft blue t-shirt, perhaps even one of his, cropped short with a pair of scisors on a whim, worn over a white tank top; swollen belly peaking from under the Knicks logo. He imagined her holding an apple in one hand and sway lightly with music, stirring pasta, sauce simmering on a back burner, waiting. He'd put his hands on her hips and move with her, kissing the side of her neck; his fingers stained with pale blue paint from painting the nursery. She'd turn around and he'd take the apple from her hand, biting a big chunk for himself. The music would play and they would dance, one hand on her waist, her arm around his neck, baby belly cradled between them, all three loved and happy and safe. Her moves maybe a bit clumsy, but who cares, he couldn't be happier if he tried because really let's face it, nothing compares.  
He'd be happy to help once the timer chimed, dumping the pasta into a sieve and scooping it onto plates, handing them to her to spill the rich tomato sauce over it, adding a dash of parmesan for him and some fresh basil for herself. The dinner served on the front porch of their house, and yes, this time he'd kiss the sauce of her face...

A shrill sound of the phone ringing pulled him back into the soft dimness of his bachelor's apartment.  
"Mulder"  
"Hi, it's me. What are you doing for dinner tonight?"

She opened the door and he rushed past her, cupping her cheek and pressing a brief, soft kiss on the corner of her smiling lips.  
"Hey" she breathed as he dropped his hand, lacing fingers through hers, pulling her in direction of the kitchen.  
"Mulder, wait" she laughed at his eagerness "where's the fire?"  
"Come on the ice cream is melting, and I'm hungry"


End file.
